Unmasked
by NostalgiaKick
Summary: When Lex Luthor discovers his secret, Clark Kent is suddenly caught in a deadly game of cat and mouse
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is set just after Fly Hard and replaces Barbarians at The Planet and House of Luthor. It's a work in progress and is also being published elsewhere.**

 **Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, plot lines, dialogue etc. are property of DC Comics, Warner Bros and December 3rd Productions. I'm not making anything off this, and so on and so forth.**

* * *

Two days after being taken hostage at the Daily Planet, Lex Luthor arose early. He was troubled, and Lex Luthor was not often troubled. When you'd risen to the position of being the third richest person on the planet, able to indulge whatever whim you might experience, trouble was something that bothered other people.

He dressed awkwardly, careful of the healing bullet wound high on his shoulder, and scowled. From all accounts, he owed his life to Clark Kent, a giblet of no account who was, Lex considered, unreasonably hostile towards him. The thought was irksome; he didn't like to be beholden to anyone for anything, and on top of that, it gave Lois Lane reason to be grateful to Kent. Feelings like that would make it harder to wean Lois away from her ties at the newspaper.

That matter, however, was not his primary concern for the day.

Entering his office, he picked up the phone and summoned Nigel St John before pouring himself a cup of coffee. He sipped at it while studying the front page of the morning edition of the Daily Planet, looking up at Nigel's entrance.

"Good morning, sir."

"Morning, Nigel. I think we may have a problem."

"Your wound, sir?" Nigel queried.

Lex moved his shoulder gingerly, annoyed at being wounded in the first place.

"A small matter. There's been an... interesting development at the Daily Planet."

"Oh?"  
"Yes. Our young friend- the one who brought us the globe- has been employed there in some menial capacity. I found him on good terms with Mr Kent. It seems an unlikely friendship." He sat down behind his desk, leaning back in his chair meditatively. "Our young friend claimed to have found the globe in a Dumpster. Now, you and I both know that that was... unlikely at best. But we never discovered where he did acquire it."

"It seems more likely that he stole it, sir."

"Exactly. But from where?" He lit a cigar and puffed at it until it was drawing properly. "I wonder..."

"Sir?"

"Nigel, get me a list of all burglaries in Metropolis for say... the last 3 months."

"Certainly sir."

Discreetly the manservant exited the room, leaving Lex alone with his thoughts.

…

Nigel retreated to his own, much smaller office down the hall from Luthor's. Generally speaking, details such as names and exact addresses of victims of crime weren't given out to the public, but a call to the right person fixed that.

Within an hour, he had the information that Mr Luthor had requested. While he approved of the idea of 'know thine enemy' in theory, as a practical matter he wasn't sure what insights Mr Luthor hoped to gain from this list. While crime had dropped since Superman's arrival some ten months before, a city as large as Metropolis still experienced a lot of burglaries in the course of three months.

He took the printout back to his employer's office, leaving it on the desk before exiting, still wondering what Mr Luthor hoped to gain.

…

Lex leafed through the printout Nigel had left behind. It seemed suspicious to him that a young petty criminal like Jack had managed to get a job at a large concern like the Daily Planet, let alone strike up an apparent friendship with one of its top reporters. There had to be an explanation. He picked up the desk phone and pushed the speed dial for Nigel's office.

"Get me any information you can on our young friend. I want to know how he ended up working at the Daily Planet."

He hung up without waiting for a response and continued leafing through the list. Finding a name he recognised, he laid the printout down.

…

Later that evening, he had the information he wanted.

"So, since we last encountered our young friend, he's found a room in a halfway house and a job, both vouched for by Clark Kent," he mused out loud. "Clark Kent's apartment was also robbed a few days before young Jack brought us the globe."

"A tenuous connection, sir." Nigel pointed out.

"Yes, but a connection nonetheless. Mr Kent seems like the sort of person that would befriend a young thief out of sympathy." Luthor's voice showed his disdain for such an altruistic notion. "Mr Kent is also a known associate of Superman. Perhaps the globe was stolen from Mr Kent's apartment."

"A reasonable assumption."

"Yes." Luthor settled into his high-backed armchair. "What do we know about Mr Kent?"

"I don't believe we've ever done a thorough check into his background, sir."

"An oversight. Correct it."

…

The following day, Nigel was able to present Lex with the background he'd requested.

He picked the file folder up off his desk and began to read.

"Clark Jerome Kent. Born February 28, 1966 in Smallville, Kansas. Only child of Jonathan and Martha Kent. Grew up in Smallville, attended Kansas State University on an academic scholarship where he majored in journalism. After college, travelled around the world as a freelance reporter before settling in Metropolis earlier this year." Lex snapped the folder shut. "Mr Kent has apparently led a blameless existence."

"So it would seem, sir."

"Yes. And yet I wonder..."

"Sir?"

"The first known report of Kryptonite came from a town in Kansas. Smallville, Kansas, to be exact. What are the odds that a reporter known to be friends with Superman, who arrives in Metropolis at approximately the same time as the overgrown Boy Scout, also just happens to be from the same small town where Kryptonite is later discovered?"

"I'd say the odds are... astronomical."

"Exactly. Find out everywhere that Kent filed stories from during his travels, and cross reference the locations with any... unusual happenings. Miraculous tales of survival, disasters that were averted-"

"Possible activities of Superman."

"Exactly."

"Very good, sir."

Lex puffed on his cigar. "To think that all of Metropolis could be fooled by a pair of glasses..."

…

Lex surveyed the map in front of him with a mixture of pleasure and triumph.

Every location that Clark Kent had filed a story from was marked. So, too, were supposed 'miracles', most of which were possibly attributable to Superman.

They overlapped.

Almost every known location of Clark Kent was surrounded by a collection of dots, marking suspected 'super' activity.

"This, Nigel, this is a thing of beauty," he commented.

"It would seem that your theory was correct, sir."

Lex was noncommittal. "Hmm. It could, however, be a coincidence. Perhaps Mr Kent was merely travelling in the company of the alien. Either way, it seems that he knows more than he's telling." He leant over the map to take a closer look at a cluster of dots over the Midwestern United States and then looked up at Nigel.

"We need proof."

"Sir?"

"I want surveillance in place… but discreetly. Tap his phones, monitor his computer. If he makes a call or sends an email, I want to know about it. But don't follow him-yet."

Nigel nodded. "Very good, sir."

Once Nigel had withdrawn, Lex bent back over the map and smiled evilly.

"I will find out what you're hiding, Mr Kent."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The first sign Clark had that anything was amiss was a high pitched buzz on his desk phone.

He was in the middle of talking to a source when the sound impinged on his hearing. It was familiar; a high pitched electronic whine, inaudible to the human ear but irritating to his more sensitive hearing. He puzzled over it for a moment while continuing his conversation, trying to place where he'd heard it before.

When the answer occurred to him, it was all he could do not to drop the receiver in shock.

A bug.

Someone had bugged his phone.

He finished his conversation on autopilot, his mind racing. Gingerly he replaced the receiver and regarded it thoughtfully. The bug couldn't have been there for very long; he hadn't heard anything out of place on the line the previous night. This had been the first call he'd made or received so far today. Mentally he reviewed the conversation; nothing of importance there, he'd simply been tying some loose ends for a follow up to yesterday's story.

The question was, who had bugged his phone? And was his the only phone affected?

He let his Super hearing kick in, making a face as the cacophony of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, people talking and the ever present deep rumble of the printing presses washed over him. Concentrating, he filtered out the extraneous sounds one by one, focussing on the whine of the bug. As far as he could tell, his was the only phone that was tapped. That seemed to argue against the possibility of it being a rival news organisation; they'd be more likely to tap Lois's phone as well if they were after scoops. No, it appeared as though he, personally, was being targeted.

That was far more disturbing.

Swallowing hard, Clark tried to tell himself that it had nothing to do with Superman- but failed. When you spent your entire life hiding something, it was hard not to jump to the worst conclusion possible.

He needed to find out who'd bugged his phone.

Briefly he toyed with the idea of enlisting Lois's help, but just as quickly dismissed it. They weren't exactly on the best of terms lately; his attempt to warn her about Lex Luthor after they'd been held hostage at the Planet had backfired, putting her on guard with him, Clark, instead of with Luthor as he'd intended. Besides, if the bug was connected with his... extracurricular activities... he was by no means sure that he wanted anyone else to know, especially someone as close to Luthor as Lois had become.

He sat back in his chair, considering. There was a possibility, albeit a remote one, that it was an official wiretap; perhaps even the beginnings of another government witch hunt into Superman. If that was the case, somewhere there would have to be a court order for the wiretap. Perhaps he could ask his friend Roger Templeton to look into it. Working at the FBI gave him access to records that Clark didn't have. Mentally he shook his head. He could just imagine the conversation. "Hi Roger, it's Clark. How's the family? Oh by the way, do you know anything about my phone being bugged?"

No, that wouldn't do. If it was an official wiretap, Roger could get in trouble for discussing it with its target. And if it wasn't an official bug, disclosing its existence to a federal agent meant sparking an investigation which might well put Clark's secret in jeopardy. Wiretapping, after all, was a felony.

Jimmy? Clark discarded that avenue of inquiry as well. Jimmy might be able to find out if there was a court order, but involving him would mean telling him about the bug.

No, Clark would have to try and get to the bottom of this one alone.

The question of the bug distracted Clark all day. He kept telling himself that it probably wasn't connected to Superman and that there were myriad reasons why his phone could have been tapped.

Finally reaching his apartment that evening, he sighed in relief. He unlocked the door, intending to do nothing more than get comfortable and call his parents. He took the steps into the living area in a fair approximation of his usual stride- and froze.

Someone had been in his apartment.

Some of the various knickknacks and souvenirs he'd collected in his travels had been rearranged. The difference was subtle but noticeable, at least to him. Whoever it was had left behind a faint scent of cheap aftershave and some sort of acrid, chemical smell. He furrowed his brow. The question was, what else had they left behind?

Gingerly he picked up the phone, hoping that the electronic buzzing he'd heard at the Planet wouldn't be present. His shoulders drooped when the obnoxious noise made its presence felt. Replacing the receiver, he straightened up. If they'd bugged his home phone, what else had they done? Minutely he scanned the apartment, his lips compressing in anger as he came across the tiny hidden microphones in the living area and attached to the picture frame that stood on his night stand.

Closely he examined the bug that had been affixed to the back of one of the figurines on the bookshelf. It was clear that the device recorded sound only. He didn't know much about this kind of surveillance equipment, but it wasn't difficult to disable electronic equipment. A quick blast of heat vision did the trick for both of the hidden microphones, but he was wary of disabling the wiretap on his phone as well; having two fail was just barely within the realm of possibility, but having all three surveillance devices drop out close to simultaneously might just attract the kind of attention he was trying to avoid.

Clark weighed the now defunct microphones in his hand, thinking rapidly. As much as he hated to worry them, he had to tell his parents about this. If someone was after Superman, it affected them too- Trask's actions, several months previously, had rammed that lesson home.

He put the bugs back in their original positions to allay suspicion before taking flight for Kansas.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Two weeks passed.

After overhearing a snippet of conversation between Jimmy and one of his contemporaries at the Planet, Clark visited a store specialising in surveillance and other espionage equipment. The name 'Spys R Us' didn't exactly inspire confidence, but he was pleasantly surprised by both the range of products they stocked and in the shop assistant's knowledge. With their guidance, he invested in an expensive (and he suspected not entirely legal) gadget that was supposed to prevent bugs from working. It's high pitched whine was even more irritating than that of the bugs, at least to his ears, but if it stopped them from working, he'd put up with it.

Blocking the hidden microphones only worked for the first week. After that, he started to get the eerie sensation of being watched.

The Planet building and his apartment were the only places that seemed to be permanently clear of the watchers; once he went outside, the sensation returned. He could usually shake it for a couple of minutes at a time- for which he was grateful, as it made it possible for him to engage in Super activities- but it always returned. To make the surveillance even more galling, he could never spot the watchers.

Lex Luthor leaned back in his chair and puffed on his fine Cuban cigar. Darkness was settling over Metropolis; the day to day business of his legitimate enterprises had been settled, leaving only the running of the activities dearest to his heart to deal with.

"What's the latest news from our little project?" he enquired, regarding Nigel through a cloud of tobacco smoke. "Do the equipment issues persist?"

"Intermittently, sir. And Mr Kent seems to be… unusually difficult to pin down," Nigel reported. "He frequently evades our surveillance, although none of our operatives can ever explain how."

"So either he is indeed Superman, or he's more intelligent than he appears," Lex stated.

"Quite."

"Still no proof?"

"None, sir."

Luthor drew heavily on his cigar, his brow furrowed.

"We are running out of time, sir." Nigel ventured. "The first shipment arrives in-"

"I am aware of the timetable," Luthor snapped.

He fell silent again, filling the room with increasing clouds of blue smoke.

"There is one other matter," Nigel stated.

Luthor jerked from his abstraction and regarded his most trusted employee.

"I received a call from Devane. He has the Kryptonite and is ready to make the delivery whenever we choose."

Lex's face creased into an evil grin.

"Well, let's not keep him waiting."

Lois watched her partner covertly. Clark Kent had always been a strange guy, prone to disappearing at odd moments without explanation, but lately, he'd gotten downright weird. His usual open, guileless expression had been replaced with a hunted look and he seemed to be constantly looking over his shoulder these days.

Something was going on.

Either he'd started to crack under the pressure of living and working in Metropolis, or there was something more sinister at play. Lois was more inclined to believe he was starting to crack- it was something she'd predicted from the day he'd hired on at the Planet, after all. Besides, the thought of Clark- of all people- being wrapped up in something illegal was laughable. He was a real law and order type with strong morals, despite his willingness to accompany her on some of her more furtive information gathering expeditions.

She swivelled her desk chair from side to side, thinking it over. No, there was no way he'd gotten caught up in something sinister. Which left the possibility of him falling apart from the stresses of the job. She sighed. She wasn't naturally the nurturing type, but Clark was her friend- and as much as she hated to admit it, their writing together was much better than either of their writing separately. If she wanted to keep him in Metropolis, she'd have to find a way to help him cope.

The long black limousine pulled smoothly up to the kerb in a deserted, seedy area on the outskirts of Metropolis. Nigel St John emerged, carrying a sturdy briefcase.

The only light came from one lone flickering streetlamp 50 feet further down the block; in its dim light, he could just make out the burly figure of Devane, carrying a similar briefcase. They met in the middle of the vacant lot that had been designated as the rendezvous.

"The money?"

Nigel hefted the briefcase higher. "Five million, as asked."

"Let me see it." Devane reached for the case; Nigel swung it back out of reach.

"The Kryptonite?"

Devane laid his case on a convenient pile of the debris that lay scattered about the vacant lot, a remnant of some long-demolished building, and snapped the latches open. He lifted the lid to expose a fist-sized jagged chunk of crystal that pulsed with a sickly green light.

Nigel allowed himself a thin smile. Laying his case next to the one containing the Kryptonite, he opened it to reveal hundreds of $50 bills, all tightly banded into neat stacks. Before Devane could reach for the money, Nigel snapped the lid shut, barely missing the fingers of the younger man. He grabbed the handle of the case with the Kryptonite, closing the lid and swinging it upright in the same motion. With the other hand, he drew a silenced .45 automatic out of his suit jacket, levelling it at Devane's heart.

"What's this?"

"This… is an old-fashioned double cross."

He fired two shots in quick succession, watching impassively as the gaunt-faced ex-CIA operative crumpled to the ground.

The scrunch of footsteps on the weedy gravel heralded Luthor's appearance at his shoulder. The billionaire barely spared the corpse a glance before holding out a hand for the case Nigel held. Retrieving the case full of money, Nigel returned to the waiting limousine.

Resting the briefcase on his knees, Lex opened the lid and extracted the Kryptonite, admiring the toxic crystal.

"A perfect jewel. Rarer than diamonds, emeralds or rubies and infinitely more precious." He replaced the stone in the case. "My Excalibur."

He closed the lid of the case, cutting off the pulsing green glow that had filled the darkened interior of the limousine, and lapsed into thought. Several blocks passed by the luxurious vehicle's tinted windows before he spoke.

"The first shipment is on schedule?"

"Yes, sir."

"And we still have no conclusive proof of Superman's identity?"

"No, sir."

"Place a call to Clark Kent. Ask him to have Superman meet me at… say 10 am tomorrow. Tell him it concerns Lois Lane."

"Very well, sir."

Clark replaced the receiver slowly, eyeing it as if had suddenly grown fangs. While it wasn't unusual for someone- usually Lois- to try and get him to find Superman for them, Lex Luthor was the last person he'd expect to receive a phone call from. His first instinct was to refuse. Although he still couldn't prove it, he was certain that Luthor was behind most of the crime in the city. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was jealous.

He didn't for a moment believe that Luthor was capable of caring fro another human being, but Lois was. And he would give every single one of his powers to have her look at him, Clark, the way she'd looked at Luthor on the night they'd been held hostage at the Daily Planet.

If it wasn't for the fact that Luthor's message had mentioned Lois, he wouldn't even consider going. But it had, and as it concerned her- if Lois was in trouble- could he really not go?

Having concocted an excuse to leave the office and avoided the watchers, Clark soared high above the city. It wasn't quite 10 am, and he was still in two minds about meeting Luthor. Hovering over LexTower- really, did everything Luthor put his hand to have to bear his name?- he scanned the penthouse suite below, looking for anything threatening or out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing out of place, he dropped lightly to the penthouse terrace.

Luthor spotted him and raised the door between his study and the terrace, getting out of his chair to greet him.

"Ah, Superman. Thank you for coming to see me."

Clark raised an eyebrow and pointedly ignored Luthor's outstretched hand.

"Clark Kent said you wanted to talk to me about Lois Lane."

Luthor dropped his extended arm. "Well, I'll admit to prevaricating a little. I assumed you wouldn't respond to a request for a meeting simply because it was my request."

"You're right."

"Well, I know you're a busy man, as am I, so I'll get to the point. I have a business proposition for you."

Clark crossed his arms across his chest. "I have no interest in doing any kind of business with you, Luthor."

Luthor dropped his cordial façade, his voice becoming silkily dangerous.

"Oh, but I think you will, Superman. Or should I call you Clark?"


End file.
